Her Papa
by Lissaone
Summary: Someone reflects on his life and beliefs as he holds his young granddaughter.  Post DH and Second Gen Fic.


_Post DH Epilogue, a long way beyond_

I stand on the front stoop of the house. It's a decent size, not grand like the one I live in, but it suffices for them. I don't know why I continue to show up at these events, they are really too much for small children. And children there will be.

My son chose to marry a Weasley, and although now she bears the Malfoy name she has somehow convinced my son to live his life as a Weasley. I can hear the laughter and shouting from behind the door and look at my wife with a bewildered look on my face.

I have seven grandchildren. Six boys and a little girl, a precious, sweet, monster of a child. She, unlike her brothers, looks nothing like her father. She's identical to her mother who is identical to her own mother, which unsettles me just a little. The concept of a precious child baffles me. The concept of a Malfoy girl baffles me more.

I would not have classified Scorpius as a particularly sweet or precious child. Rose, oh Rose, was anything but sweet or precious. Where they got such a beautiful child, I'll never know. My wife assures me that Rose is a nice enough woman, but I've got my reservations, she is a Weasley, after all. I ponder this family that I've been pulled into almost every night as I crawl into bed.

Is this what Lucius Malfoy wanted when he wished for a pureblood society? This innocence that these children have? Is this the world we would have created, or was the sadness and darkness that hung over the world what it would have been? If it was up to his father, Rose Weasley wouldn't have existed because Hermione Weasley was a mudb- Muggle Born. Would my son be happy without his beloved Rose? Where would my seven grandchildren be?

I knocked on the door and was greeted by Rose who smiled a welcoming smile to Astoria and a polite one at me.

She moved aside and the sound of laughter and children became louder. Of course all of the Weasleys and Potters were there. The family traveled in packs and-through no fault of my own-I found myself a part of it.

A small red-haired child flew across the room and landed in my lap as soon as I was seated. She climbed up as if she knew she was going to be welcome and she was. My arms came around her and held her secure. As soon as she looked up at me and whispered "Papa!" I knew why I put up with the Weasleys and Potters.

This little devil in an angel's costume was my life. When Scorpius had handed her to me and whispered, "this one's special, Father." I knew it was true.

She had large brown eyes and the trademark Weasley hair, but she was Hermione Granger's, I mean Weasley's, granddaughter. She had Granger written all over her, but my heart beat fifteen times faster when those eyes had met mine.

At seven weeks, she had blessed me, of all people, with her very first smile. It was into my arms she walked her first steps. Now, at five, she had me wrapped around her little finger. This child could control me better than any Imperius curse could ever hope to.

"I'm glad you could come, Mother's already buried in children." My son sat next to me. I wonder when he had become such a man. "Ophelia, you need to come with me." "Papa!" She said again and threw her little arms around my neck.

"Now, what could my princess have possibly done?" I know the routine. She's caused trouble somewhere, with her brothers, and she wanted me to get her out of it. I am quite happy to oblige her.

"Tell Papa what you've done." Scorpius said, rather sternly. Why had I allowed these children to call me Papa? Why not Grandfather Malfoy as was expected. Maybe it was because I loved the way it felt the first time Arthurias, Scorpius' eldest, had called me it.

"I just wanted to open one present, Papa, Arthurias gets them all, and there's just lots and lots! I want one, too!" She said her little arms were crossed and she was obviously upset over the lack of attention she was getting.

When she came to Malfoy Manor, she was the youngest of seven and treated as the royal princess she should be. Here, at home, amongst cousins, second cousins and yes, one second-cousin-once-removed, she was just another child in the mix. Well as the first Malfoy girl to come along in many generations, I could not let this go. Pulling out my wand I made a circle in the air. A beautiful rose-laden wreath landed in my lap between the two of us. I placed it carefully on her tiny head.

"There, a rose crown for my princess, is that enough to keep you out of your brother's presents?" I asked her.

"Yes!" She said, she slid from my lap and went to a mirror where she could admire her beauty.

"You spoil her, Father." Scorpius said, amused. "It's shameless."

I knew Scorpius and knew he loved the way I had taken to all his children, especially little Ophelia. I hadn't been sure about Rose, at first. After all, she was the daughter of two of the three people I had hated most, all the way through school. I worked with her parents at the Ministry and we tried to stay away from each other as much as possible.

Scorpius had been enamored, though, and Astoria had talked me through it. How I was lucky enough to end up with a wife like her I'd never know. While the Weasley, Potters and Malfoys all got along, we felt no need to be around each other too much. Mostly when it was one of Rose and Scorpius' children's birthday. Otherwise, we just didn't and it was better that way.

This isn't the world my father or the other Death Eaters had thought of or wanted. In fact my father would be quite appalled if he had lived long enough to see Scorpius marry Rose, and have seven children with her. I am happy, though. And so are my grandchildren, which is all that matters. My father told me once that he wanted to make a better world for his grandchildren. Well, he got his wish, it's just not the way he imagined it. "She's my only granddaughter and youngest grandchild, I will spoil her if it pleases me."

"Papa, can Gracie have one, too?" She brought her cousin over. The sense of giving and sharing is definitely a Weasley trait. As long as she can have whatever is being given away, too, Ophelia loves to share. I think it's Harry's granddaughter, it must be because she has the same brilliant green eyes. When I look up, both Harry and James Potter are watching intently. They don't honestly think I'd hurt her, we're just wary. I watched them like a hawk around my grandchildren, too.

"Yes, my princess." I say and make another one, this one with yellow roses, and laid it on her head. I knew I'd be making crowns for all the little girls very soon. My father is definitely rolling over in his grave.

Scorpius shook his head and walked away to make sure his demon princess did not cause anymore trouble. He needn't have worried, though, Ophelia wouldn't leave my side. She'd saunter over to Rose's parents when she deemed them worthy, but she was a Malfoy through and through. Her true loyalties laid with me. Her Papa.

**AN: This is my first Harry Potter fanfic. I wrote once, a long, long time ago for Roswell that long ago TV show. I'm fiddling around with a couple more, maybe I'll come back to the realm of fanfiction, maybe not. I'm seven years older now, with a real job and life. Much different from the procrastinating, high school student I once was. We'll see if I have time for this to fit into it. **

**This idea came to my head as I was at a retirement party for a coworker. His grandchildren came in and climbed happily into his lap and yelled "papa". Obviously his grandchildren were used to being accepted into their Papa's lap. **

**I am not a huge Draco Malfoy fan, nor am I of the belief that he would change his ways totally and completely. Yes, he was a product of his upbringing, but at some ****point one needs to make one's own decisions.**

**I hope you enjoyed this!**


End file.
